Bank Holiday Malarkey

I am glad it is a bank holiday today, because no way was I going to work when I woke this morning. I had far more important things to do than educate the young, who, quite frankly, often don't realise how lucky they are to have a free education.

For a start, Andy and I had to get the back garden ready for Bee-Hive Number One (the hive will be given a witty and topical name once I can think of one). The back garden has been looking a right old tip, so some heavy duty tidying was called for, so that once our hive is sited we won't do any unnecessary bee enraging by having to move it once the colony is settled. Also, I had a pile of summer bulbs to put in - gladioli and irises. The chickens came and helped dig the bulb bed; Mrs Miggins indulging in the sport of extreme digging i.e clambering atop the fork for prime worm viewing position.

It's surprising what can be achieved in three hours. The weather threatened to spoil our fun a couple of times, but we held out and managed to create the illusion of more space than we've actually got by the time lunch started calling.

'It looks okay now, doesn't it?' said Andy, standing back to admire our handy work.
'Indeed,' I agreed. 'But now I am pooped so am going inside for a Bank Holiday afternoon slump.'

And so far this afternoon I have caught up with some letter writing, nearly finished another book by my new favourite writer, Marina Lewycka, read a bit more about bees, and drawn a plan of how I imagine our dream-house-and-garden-smallholding-combo to look. I have tidied out my knicker drawer, and am about to continue sewing the picture I started when Kayleigh was born which is for her nursery and if I carry on at the rate I am going with it so far, she'll be able to hang it on her wall when she is about 13 years old and drooling over some vacuous, floppy-haired boy-band.

And then I am going to scour my cookery books for some good vegetarian recipes that in no way, shape or form involve tofu. Have you ever eaten tofu? Can I suggest you don't? You might just as well eat slivers of bath sponge dipped in a soapy water solution. Yuk! I believe tofu is derived from soya bean curd, and to be honest, the words 'soya' and 'curd' in the same sentence should be enough to put anyone off trying this poor excuse for a meat substitute. It's supposed to be tasteless and will therefore take on the flavour of whatever else you soak it in or cook it with. Well, all I can say is that the stuff we had last night in our Chinese takeway must have been soaked in molten playdough. Double yuk!

And this evening I am off out with Mrs Pumphrey to do some last minute canvassing before the election on Thursday. She wants to kiss some babies and I have to be on hand with the beak muffler. The latest polls suggest she is in with a good chance of becoming Prime Minister, thank goodness, because she can't do any more harm than the current shower, can she?

Although she did call Tango Pete a fascist gigolo the other day. And abusing your electorate is never a good idea. Is it, Gordon?